


Masquerade: Side Stories and Extras

by Ashida



Series: Keep What We Love, Burn The Rest [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Russian Mafia, VictUuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida
Summary: This is a collection of one shots, drabbles and side stories related to my ficMasquerade.





	1. Stay Close To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Masquerade — O Baile das Máscaras [Side Stories e Extras]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740830) by [IcarusDive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcarusDive/pseuds/IcarusDive)
  * Inspired by [Masquerade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565544) by [Ashida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida). 



> So I have done a few extra stories for Masquerade now, and I have finally decided to post them here on Ao3. No doubt I will be adding more as time goes on.

Sometimes, they picked the worst places to meet. 

Now was one of those times. 

It wasn’t that this huge open spaced establishment sprawling with chairs and tables set for two was subpar. It wasn’t the ambient night sky of hundreds and hundreds of tiny glowing bulbs suspended at different lengths from the high ceiling like perfect stars in their own universe. 

It wasn’t the amazing service and other patrons that kept to themselves in groups of only two, _always_ two. It wasn’t the velvet lined booths at the edges of the room that looked safe enough to keep secrets and smother whispers, it wasn’t the fact that there were no Russians or Japanese in sight.

It was the fact that Yuuri was here alone, waiting with his solitary drink at the bar as usual.

He’d convinced himself over and over again that this didn’t bother him, that the small stage with an intimate dance floor bathed in welcoming darkness wasn’t something he needed with Victor, it wasn’t the couples in the middle sharing a slow dance as the live band changed their pace into a hopelessly intimate tune, the dancers oblivious to the world except for the person in their arms.

Yuuri didn’t need it, but he wanted it all the same, it pulled at the edges of the hole in his chest that was only full when Victor was near, in _his_ arms. He’d always thought his heart was sensible enough to get over it, that logic would win because he knew that his bond with Victor was stronger than all the bonds in this room combined. 

As the years had passed though, the more places like this they’d chanced on, the more Yuuri ached inside because he knew Victor could give him _anything_ except this, that Victor _wanted_ to give him everything including this. But this one simple thing was beyond their means, and it chafed at his skin like the so heavy suit on his shoulders, the tight holsters under his jacket, the switchblade in his pocket.

Yuuri would endure it like he always did, like he always would, because he couldn’t let this childish feeling get in the way of his time with Victor.

So he sat at the bar a while longer as one drink turned to two, two to three, until the lights dimmed further, until alcohol sunk its claws of inebriation into the couples about him and public displays of affection ensued. He stayed until the barkeep gave him that pathetic look, the look that said his date wasn’t coming, he stayed until he got that look from more than just the barkeep. Yuuri would have liked nothing more than to wipe that look of the faces of everyone who’d looked in his direction, because none of them knew Victor like he did, and no one but Yuuri ever would. 

But how cruel would it be for Victor to pick this fucking place and not show up? Yuuri laughed to himself before he threw back his bourbon and savoured the fire down his throat, felt the heat numb all that ached inside. Victor _was_ full of surprises, but that didn’t mean that they were all good ones.

It happened, rare were the times now when business got in the way, but it happened, and Yuuri decided today was one of those days.

He flagged the barkeep to pay his bill, maybe it was better they didn’t meet in a place like this anyway.

More people looked at him on his way out, eyes of men and women alike drawn to Yuuri and his styled back hair and glasses, his perfectly fitted suit and polished shoes, his long legs and natural grace and chin held high that made people second guess whether he was the one doing the standing up or not.

Yuuri was only two steps out the door when his phone buzzed with vibration in his pocket, short and abrupt as the single message came through.

The number wasn’t saved under anything in his phone, but Yuuri knew Victor’s personal contact details off by heart.

_”11:36pm - French causing trouble, put them all to sleep for making me late. Meet you at room instead. xxx Vitya”_

“Pfft.” Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he changed directions for the hotel they’d decided on after all, he could see Victor now, hiding a childish pout as he killed people for making him late for a _date_ of all things. Victor’s reputation was getting fierce lately, and it was incidents like this that had everything to do with it. 

Yuuri would have done the same, he had before, and it turned out that Victor quite liked it when Yuuri turned up to their room with blood on his hands.

The respite in heartache was only temporary however, and with each step it throbbed in his chest to the rhythm of his footsteps, this walk was always one of the hardest parts, because it gave him too much time to himself, too much time to think about decisions he could have made, and decisions he would still have to make if he went back to that room to be with Victor for one measly night. 

In hindsight, Paris was probably one of the worst places they could meet, Yuuri didn’t have business here, he’d come on Victor’s plea to this city of lovers, and everywhere he looked only served to chisel at his hard won reasoning that this all was superfluous to his needs.

Maybe that’s what Victor wanted, maybe he wanted Yuuri to see the couples who could walk hand in hand, the first dates at coffee shops with innocent intentions, the old flames who were still as in love as the day they met. Yuuri could only add that to his pile of too many things he was thinking about on the short walk to the extremely luxurious hotel that looked over the Louvre from the other side of the Seine river. 

French Baroque architecture through and through, the hotel entrance welcomed him with big stone colonnades and a plush red carpet runner that led him straight into the foyer of a 17th century interior, Yuuri couldn’t help but stop and take a breath as he took it all in, because this was the most excessive Victor had been yet. Domed ceilings with gilded scrollwork and crisp white paint, crystal chandeliers and stone pillars, everywhere he looked there were more details to take in. 

Each step inside this building only took him further and further away from the real world, further away from reality, because of course Victor would have planned for this too. And of course no one asked questions as he walked across to the elevator that fit with the era, panelled walls and flowering cornices, thick carpet and a small ceiling with embossed panels of white and bronze.

To the top floor the elevator he went, where another red carpet runner led him to one of only two rooms on the whole floor, the single door with gold numbers and brass handle opened without a sound on its hinges.

Yuuri kicked off his shoes in the entrance way and followed the short walk into the open space of the suite, and was forced to stop short as he took it all in.

It was only the lounge area, and yet it was the size of some small houses in japan, with more extravagance and more over the top decoration, Yuuri didn’t know where to look. The claw footed chaise lounge setting, the high ceilings with more intricate paintwork, the white panelled walls, the patterned carpet and marble busts of people Yuuri didn’t know set against the walls on pedestals of their own. 

That wasn’t it though, it would never be it. That bar was only a poor mockery of the real thing right in front of him. All the velvet curtains were still pulled open with their gold tasseled restraints, the set of french doors opened out to the moonlit balcony. Yuuri only realised now, that they’d _never_ left curtains open before this.

But here on the top floor they could, bathed in midnight was the glittering view of the city with the glowing Eiffel tower in the distance, the twinkling lights of cars like lifeblood as they moved along the veins of highways and streets in a million directions at once. And it was all mirrored in the sky as real stars outshone the artificial ones below, diamonds scattered across an oblivion coloured blanket that wrapped itself around the world and said that this darkness wouldn’t ever betray their secret.

And in front of it all was Victor in his perfect black suit and tie, standing before those open french doors, lost in thought as he bent his arms and took his cufflinks off one by one, more breath taking by far than the view behind him.

Yuuri couldn’t _breathe_ , that dull ache in his chest seemed to reach out to Victor in a plea of its own, because he could see Victor breathing fast still, moonlight hair disheveled like he’d raced the wind to be on time, his cheeks flushed, and Victor Nikiforov had _rushed_ to get here, like there was an ache in his chest that was just as desperate to be salved only if for a night.

“Victor.” Yuuri sighed, and he felt that throb relent as Yuuri let all his secrets go, as he let his mask fall away and stood in the doorway as Victor finally noticed he was there. 

Victor saw it all instantly, like he always did, the in too deep heartache, he saw all the things Yuuri had been overthinking on his way here, the burdens Yuuri carried to keep this thing, the only thing he wanted. 

And the first thing Victor said broke him inside every time, because his voice _cracked_ , his eyes reflected all the things Yuuri himself had been thinking, that desperation and the quiet struggle to keep it all together. 

“I’m sorry for making you wait, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri _hated_ it when he said that, because Victor always sounded so pained, because they would _always_ be waiting, no matter what they did. Waiting for the next night, waiting to get caught, waiting to die, and Yuuri knew as long as he could have the Victor in front of him that he would gladly spend his whole life _waiting_. 

As Yuuri closed the gap he could see the fleck of blood on Victor’s collar, could smell the lingering scent of violence on his skin, the scent of someone else’s fear, the overpowering notes of Victor’s control, and Yuuri was reminded all over again exactly why Victor was worth waiting for.

Because Victor stood there, waiting for Yuuri too, with his shoulders that could carry the world and his eyes that could drown it, and all Yuuri had to do was ask.

Stepping into Victor’s arms was always like falling all over again, the rush as the whole in his chest was filled, it soothed all his aches and pains, and Victor wrapped his arms around tight like only a place called home could.

“That’s better.” Victor hummed as they stood there on the spot with the moon above, still suited for the world outside with guns hidden even as all their other layers melted away.

“Mm.” Yuuri agreed, relishing the soft breeze that swept through the open doors and pulled at the curtains, and even if he knew he was in too deep, Yuuri wouldn’t mind being the one to drown further, here and now.

“Do you know what this weekend is, Yuuri?” Victor cooed with a smile as he took Yuuri’s hand and placed it around his own neck, as he placed his own around Yuuri’s waist and pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s to search for an answer that Yuuri didn’t know.

“Uhm, am I meant to?” was all Yuuri could stammer as Victor slowly stepped them from side to side in a rolling rhythm, his eyes shut now with an expression that Yuuri could only call content, _happy_.

And Yuuri realised they were _dancing_ , dancing with nothing but Victor’s humming as a tune, and that music would be more than enough because they were dancing with no one but the stars watching, dancing in their own perfect universe under a real sky that would most definitely keep their secret.

His other hand found Victor’s waist then, he tightened his grip around the nape of Victor’s neck, and lay his head against that muscled chest to listen to the deep vibrations of Victor’s music. 

There was warm breath in his hair as Victor kissed the top of his head and stayed there, mumbling against Yuuri’s head as he answered his own question. 

“This weekend is 5 years since we met, Yuuri,” and he clutched Yuuri tighter at that, kissed his head again as they stepped in lazy circles on the spot. “An anniversary, of sorts.” 

It was Yuuri’s turn to hold on tighter now, to press himself more against Victor’s chest as his heart did the most unreasonable thing and let butterflies go in his ribcage, what a hopeless pair of criminals they both were.

“It’s perfect like this.” Yuuri said, quiet as he smiled to himself, only realising now that whether they were in public or not wouldn’t make a difference, because Yuuri wouldn’t fucking notice if they were anyway, all his attention was on Victor, as it always would be. “It’s perfect like this.” Yuuri sighed again, knowing it was true.

He felt Victor’s mouth curve against his head in a smile, felt him step a little lighter as he set them into a slow waltz with impeccable footwork and a perfect lead that Yuuri would follow anywhere. And so Victor kept humming a tune deep in his chest, warm and heartfelt as they danced still in their designer suits and ties.

“We’re like an old married couple.” Yuuri commented as he thought of the like that he’d seen on his way here, dancing without care in an outdoor restaurant as a song came on the radio. It was a good thought, well Yuuri thought it was, but Victor straightened with gasp and looked down at him, struck with horror.

“Yuuuuri, are you calling me old!?” and his pout would always be ridiculous, his eyes dead serious even though his lips looked petulant and stubborn like only a child’s could.

“Pfft.” And Yuuri was laughing at him for the second time that night, pulling Victor back to him even as Victor continued to grumble, “Shut up and dance with me, Victor.” Yuuri hummed his own tune as Victor chuckled, as he relaxed again and took Yuuri in his arms.

The slow steps in front of the open doors started all over again, and Victor whispered to him,

“As you wish.” 


	2. Could Tell A Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Valentines Day

It was laughable that he was upset, _really_. Victor even almost berated himself for it, for packing as close to what he would call a tantrum as what a grown adult who was heir to one of the biggest criminal groups in the world could be. 

People steered well clear of him today, they did what he asked, they didn’t argue, they didn’t fight back. He’d woken up in a foul mood, eaten breakfast and done his work out in the freezing cold in an even worse mood, and it’d soured as the day wore on, it was only lunch time. 

_And_ it was also Valentine’s day. 

It wasn’t the fact he wouldn’t be seeing Yuuri today that grated on his skin, after 4 years he was used to it. As much as he would delight in spoiling Yuuri rotten in every manner that he could think of, it wasn’t the fact that he wouldn’t even get a hug, or a kiss, a _smile_ , or a ‘Victor’ whispered into his ear. 

It wasn’t the fact that people thought that he, Victor Nikiforov, who everyone still thought was one of Russia’s most eligible bachelors, would be spending Valentine’s day alone. 

No. Victor was impervious to those sort of things. Other people were irrelevant, the fact that their conflicting lives got in the way was irrelevant. 

What he wasn’t impervious too however, was the fact that he hadn’t heard a single thing from Yuuri at all today, or in the days leading up to today. 

Not one call, no text message, no arrangements to talk on the phone like they did for birthdays. 

Yuuri wasn’t one for sentimentality, he wasn’t one for confessions or blunt truths, everything was in the show and not tell with Yuuri. Victor knew that much, but Yuuri also knew that Victor _was_ , celebrating these novelties with Yuuri gave Victor an excuse to tell Yuuri all the things he never normally said, it gave him an excuse to coax Yuuri into being open and honest because Victor _craved_ his inner thoughts like nothing else. He needed them to know that Yuuri was still sure about this, now more than ever. 

And it seemed Yuuri had run away from him yet again, as cold as the Russian winter, Yuuri had cut off contact in order to avoid being honest. Victor didn’t think Yuuri could be this cruel, but then again Yuuri never failed to surprise him.

The rest of the day wore on, heavy snow fell unceasing, and Victor unconsciously checked his phone more often than he should, his messages, his emails, social media, anything for a sign that Yuuri had been online or maybe checked his phone. 

Nothing ever changed though, no matter how hard he glared at the tiny touch screen and ordered it to give him a notification from the number he’d memorised off by heart. 

By 5pm it was dark outside, the sky a mix of gentle snowflakes and twinkling stars with a backdrop of night, it was beautiful, this city of his, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d though of walking through the streets as snow fell with Yuuri’s warm hand in his. The only thing not in his reach; it was that simplicity he wanted so much that everything seemed to be a constant reminder that he couldn’t ever have it. 

By 7pm, Victor was done being angry, he was done checking his phone, done looking outside at the snow and the stars and all the hopes that came with them, he was done thinking that Yuuri would contact him after all.

All he wanted to do was go home and drink, he was passed his proverbial tantrum, and now he was _hurting_ , more than anyone should when there wasn’t any physical pain to be had. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d drowned his misgivings in strong spirits, doused his frustrations and his anger. Every time he was forced to watch Yuuri walk away from him, turn his back, _leave_ him, that was a day that Victor wanted to drown it all and sleep.

Katsuki Yuuri was the best and worst thing about Victor’s life, and Victor decided long ago that he wouldn’t ever let him go, because each of those single nights that he’d spent with him for the last 5 years outweighed the rest of the bad days tenfold. 

It was going to take more than a few days spent with Yuuri to make up for this one though and he’d milk it for all it was worth, Victor mused to himself as he threw on his coat to leave his office, it was 9pm now, if any trouble happened he’d deal with it in the morning.

As usual on the short drive back to his apartment, all he thought of was Yuuri. He thought of the plans he’d been making, the house he’d brought on the coast that overlooked the ocean, the car that would take them there, the weapons he’d brought to protect them, the knives he’d brought that he knew Yuuri would wield with expert skill. 

He thought that maybe after today Yuuri wouldn’t run away with him after all, maybe he _had_ made a mistake. Victor was only coming to grips now with the realisation of how terrifying it was to need someone more than they needed you, and today it was this heavy thing on his chest, this sinking feeling in his gut, an overwhelming loneliness that he thought he’d never feel again.

Yuuri was so fucking cruel. 

Victor pulled into his carpark as usual, cleared of snow and slippery ice, and got out without a care for the cold or the snow falling in his hair. Then it was him staring at his boutique leather shoes on the walk to the apartment foyer, listening to them clack across the floor as he walked to the elevator, staring at them again as he went all the way up to the top floor.

An obnoxious ‘ting’ announced his arrival to his floor, the doors opening to the empty hallway that lead to his place at the end of the building, and it seemed like such a long walk just to go back and be alone for yet another night. Before Yuuri it never would have bothered him, and it was only with Yuuri that he knew what he was missing. 

He stared at the grey door at the end of the hallway as he drew closer, loathing the empty silence he’d find on the other side. 

The lock clicked as he swiped his access key, and with one final breath Victor pushed the heavy door to his apartment open, and promptly stopped dead. 

And his heart was racing now, his solemn mood gone in the space of all the surprises assaulting him as one. 

The lights in his apartment were already on, welcoming and bright. There was a pair of shoes in his shoe rack that were never there this morning, they were too small, too different from his for Victor not to notice.

There was the unmistakable buzz of his tv going, the volume carrying through his apartment to greet Victor at his door. 

Most of all; it was _boiling_ , the air con turned up much higher than what Victor normally had it, the heat flushed his face, spread through his body, dissolved that awful weight on his chest. 

Victor kicked his shoes off and left them where they were, threw his thick coat off, his jacket, his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and by the time he’d done all that he was in his living room, looking for the reason that currently had Victor smiling and _laughing_.

He found Yuuri curled up on his couch, wrapped up like a parcel in the blanket from his bed and a scarf from his wardrobe, oblivious to Victor’s arrival .because he was fast asleep. 

And as he looked down at Yuuri, glasses skewed on is face, hair a mess and cheeks pink, he wondered if Yuuri knew how much this meant to Victor, how much he would cherish all the things that this told him without Yuuri needing to say a single word.

It was _crazy_ , how this one moment of watching Yuuri sleep on his couch in _his_ apartment, clutching on to the access key Victor had given him years ago, could erase an entire day’s worth of brooding, of doubts, of _fears_.

Victor was kneeling at his side then, pulling his glasses off, kissing his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his eyes, enjoying every moment before Yuuri stirred with a grumble, only to try and bury himself further into the blankets.

“Wake up, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled, pushing the hair away from Yuuri’s face and kissing his lips at last.

That’s when Yuuri blinked open one eye, then two, and grumbled again as he realised he’d fallen asleep. 

“Mmm, sorry, I wanted to surprise you.” and he was mumbling, halfway between coherent and slumber still, and still one hundred percent adorable.

“This is the best surprise you could ever give me, Yuuri.” Victor sighed to him then, burying his own head in the crook of Yuuri’s neck, because he was so overwhelmingly happy right now that he didn’t know what to do.

So he just knelt there next to his couch as Yuuri brought his hand up to pet the top of his head, threading his fingers through Victor’s hair and massaging his scalp, still honest with the cloudiness of sleep.

“Good,” Yuuri hummed, and Victor could _hear_ his smile, he could hear all the unspoken words that Yuuri never told him, and eventually Yuuri said, “Happy Valentine’s day, Victor.” 

It was days like these that Victor remembered why Katsuki Yuuri the worst thing that ever happened to him, and it was also moments like this that Victor remembered he was the best thing that ever happened to him too.

It was hearing Yuuri whisper his name like that, like it was the only word that mattered, it was surprises like finding Yuuri in his house on Valentine’s day that made Victor realise time and time again that he would never, ever let Yuuri go.


	3. Follow And Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for anon on tumblr who asked if Victor or Yuuri had to die, who would it be?

Victor made a mistake.

And now Yuuri was the one paying for it. 

Their foe had run the moment they realised they’d dealt Yuuri a killing blow, there was no point in delivering a dead body back to the head of the Katsuki family. No logic in staying to see Victor’s madness. 

Victor wouldn’t have been able to do anything if they stayed, he couldn’t hear anything in the dim alley that they’d been trying to sneak down. He couldn’t comprehend the request for orders Otabek was asking for, he couldn’t hear his own ragged breathing, ripped from his lungs with each violent heave of his chest. There wasn’t enough oxygen, his tie was too tight, his holster chafed not at his skin, but at his very existence, they’d never been as suffocatingly binding as this. 

The guns in his hands were heavy, useless.

Through the white noise in the swirling madness around him, Victor dwelt in his own pocket of nauseating oblivion, every meal he’d ever eaten, every meal _he’d_ cooked for him, threatened to come back up, threatened to erase themselves from his system and leave a bile tasting memory instead, something he would never savour again, all because Victor made a mistake.

The only thing he could hear was _his_ rattled breathing, a bubble of blood, the wheeze of a dying man. And Victor never recalled anyone else bleeding _this_ much when he killed them before, never recalled the iron taint on his tongue, or the way it ebbed in pulses from the lancing wound caused by an indiscriminate bullet.

And it was so typical of Yuuri that even in this he had so much more to give than anyone else, more blood, more of himself in order to save Victor _again_ , more bubbly, dying breaths.

And Yuuri was still _looking_ at him, his eyes this warm embrace even as his body lost its own heat, as his skin paled and the life slowly bled from his eyes, Victor thought he might be dying too. 

Victor sunk to his knees in his own state of shock, soiling his suit on the filth in the alley, and he _screamed_ as Yuuri’s life ebbed through his fingers, this warm crimson as he tried to apply hopeless - _frantic_ \- pressure to the too many holes in Yuuri’s chest.

He was trying to breathe for them both now, taking deep lungfuls of air to make up for the pitiful attempts of respiration that Yuuri was choking out, there was more red bubbles than returned breath coming back up, Yuuri was slowly drowning in himself. Victor was drowning, too.

“You’re not allowed to die, Yuuri” he _couldn’t_. There was no such thing as Katsuki Yuuri dying. 

In the throws of death, how did this beautiful person still manage to surprise and gift him with a smile, a smile so genuine and happy to see him, despite the red staining his teeth, the impending death clouding his eyes, so full of affection and devotion that it had Victor clutching at the shirt in front of him in anguished desperation. He couldn’t let Yuuri go. “I’m… glad to save you.. one last time.” came Yuuri’s first last words.

Victor’s nails dug through the stained red fabric and into his palms, it was all he could hold onto, and so Victor locked on as hard he ever could. This existence would not slip away in his hands so long as he held this life-stained shirt as tight as he was.

“I’m sorry… leaving you again.” Steady, those words were rasped but steady, how could Yuuri be so _calm_ , when _he_ was the one dying, when it was his blood, his life, mocking Victor’s despairing fingers as it pulsed from his chest.

“You can’t, Yuuri, you promised.” Victor begged, he wanted to scream, he wanted to roar at the cerise, viscous blood saturating the ground, wanted to shout his defiance at death, his fists crumpled in clotted fabric were trembling now. He was _shaking_ , because there was nothing he could do, he didn’t have this sort of power.

At the start of this with him, he thought he did. Yuuri proved it to Victor time and time again though that Yuuri would always surprise him, and it was true even now that he was dying. 

“Don’t cry, Victor.” Yuuri wheezed as he shut his eyes, and he looked at peace, that thin smile still on his lips as he tried to reach out to Victor in turn, “That’s not the last… thing I want to see.”

“What do you want, Yuuri?” and even now Victor would still give him anything he wanted, even though he’d already _given_ him nearly everything, and there was this one last part of him called humanity that Yuuri would _take_ when he stopped breathing, he could feel it dying inside him even now. 

“Kiss me.” Yuuri whispered, his face was too pale, his smile too delirious. He looked weak, and that was wrong, because Katsuki Yuuri wasn’t weak. Never weak.

His lips were soft and cold, the taste of blood a mockery of the kisses they used to share when they woke up in the mornings, when they went to sleep at night, empty of the heat that drove Victor crazy whenever Yuuri kissed him first. And he’d always kissed Yuuri like it might be the last, and now that the last was finally here it was more than he could take. 

Yuuri spluttered blood as acceptance crossed his face, he was coughing now, short and sharp like the agonising pain in Victor’s heart, there wasn’t as much blood flowing now, and that only because it was running out, and Victor was running out of time with Yuuri. “I’m ready now.” he finally sighed.

And Victor was _choking_ on his own ragged sobs, his throat tight, ears ringing, weak as he drowned in his own despair. “You’re so cruel, to leave me behind, Yuuri.” 

But Yuuri was already beyond hearing, those eyes stayed shut, they wouldn’t be opening again. Blood loss had taken Yuuri’s conscious, taken the fervour from his eyes, the healthy glow from his skin, it’d taken everything that made up Katsuki Yuuri, and in turn Yuuri took the last shred of Victor with him. 

So Victor sat, and with trembling arms manoeuvered the limp shell of Yuuri in between his outstretched legs, his back against Victor’s chest so he could hold him close. Maybe if he held him tight, he wouldn’t slip away.

Before Yuuri, he was empty, Yuuri had filled his life with everything Victor hadn’t known he needed, and he’d taken it all with him now, now he felt more hollow and bereft than Victor thought he ever could. He howled at the sky as Yuuri took his last breaths, roared as the last parts of himself bled away with Yuuri in his arms, empty again with no Yuuri to fill the void. 

In the distance, Victor could hear sirens approaching, and yet all he wanted to do was shut his eyes and not wake up. 

“…. Victor!” 

There was something _warm_ clutching at his skin, shaking him, Victor wished they would just leave him in peace, let him _rest_ now that there was no point in running. Couldn’t a man mourn in peace?

“Victor, wake up.” the shaking was more urgent now, piercing the film over his ears and bringing him around, and suddenly Victor _was_ awake.

He was awake in a soft bed with Yuuri leaning over him, concern in his eyes and worry on his mouth, and Victor realised he was still crying.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri urged, and his hand was so gentle as his caressed Victor’s face, filled with heat and love and life, Victor had no doubt that this would be the last thing he wanted to see when he died, at least.

“Promise me again, Yuuri.” Victor pleaded, because his heart was still hurting, his head still playing out the images of his very worst nightmare, one that he’d had more than once. One that’d plagued his sleep for _years_ , taunting Victor as if telling him he would never be strong enough.

“Promise you what?” came the next question, and he could tell Yuuri was desperate now, looking at Victor like Yuuri would promise the world this instant if that’s what Victor asked for. Little did Yuuri know that Victor’s world was already in his arms, alive and breathing, heart still beating as he looked at Victor with his endearing brown eyes.

“Promise me you’ll never leave?” was all Victor said, the fear obvious in his voice as it cracked under the strain of his own heartbreak.

And Yuuri was the one who let out a sob now, smiling this sad thing as he did so, because Victor’s fears were his own, and Yuuri would never be cruel enough to leave Victor and go to a place where he couldn’t follow.

So with trembling arms, Victor pulled Yuuri into his embrace, he could feel the steady beat of Yuuri’s heart against his, feel the warmth of his skin, the strength in his body, everything that was Katsuki Yuuri still there, still alive.

“When we’re ready,” Yuuri hummed as he nuzzled against Victor’s ches, making himself comfortable before he finally whispered: “We’ll leave together.”


	4. A Series of Ficlets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt memes on tumblr.

**Something about them.**

There was something about Yuuri when he moved with his knives in hand that stole every part of Victor’s ability to move, to think, to breathe.

Whether it was the shadows that he seemed to become a part of, darkness that danced for him, or violence that sung for him, Victor wasn’t sure what he was looking at was human.

And there was something else about Yuuri, something about this murder made flesh, this personification of grace, his merciless gaze and frenzy crazed eyes as he turned to Victor with blood on his hands that made Victor that much more obsessed with him.

There was something about Yuuri, everything about Yuuri, that Victor wouldn’t ever get enough of.

“Mine.” Victor whispered in the darkness.

* * *

 

 

**This was a mistake - with comic by Kantonliu[here on tumblr](http://kantonliu.tumblr.com/post/156936161326/comic-based-on-captain-erwinmerica-s-masquerade)**

It always felt this way, watching Yuuri’s back vanish behind the door as he left Victor yet again. He couldn’t say when it started feeling like this, but he knew it for what it was.

Watching Yuuri leave was like tying his tie too tight, like leaving his back exposed to an open space, like leaving an unloaded gun in your pocket.

It chafed at him, rubbed his conscious the wrong way, because Victor never did any of those things, he didn’t choke himself, didn’t leave himself vulnerable, didn’t set himself up for any accidents or better yet, pain.

Victor Nikiforov didn’t make mistakes, and yet every time he watched Katsuki Yuuri close the door behind him it felt like a mistake. And if Victor was going to make a mistake, of course he was going to try and fix it.

Next time there would be no mistake, and as he savoured the taste of Yuuri’s kiss on his lips, Victor started planning a way to right all the mistakes he’d made before now.

 

* * *

 

 

**Sweat**

It was that time of year where St Petersburg was perpetually freezing, and Yuuri would hate it if it weren’t for the source of his salvation from the cold.

Inside their own world, with Victor lighting fire to his skin and kissing heat into his veins, his breath, hot enough to make Yuuri melt as he trailed kisses down his stomach, down over his hips to wrap his lips around Yuuri’s throbbing length.

It was cold as death outside, ice on the windows and sleet on the wind, and Yuuri didn’t feel any of it, because Victor made Yuuri sweat.

* * *

 

 

**Filthy.**

Yuuri was filthy, there was blood everywhere, and he was due to be meeting Victor half an hour ago.

The body at his feet had led Yuuri on a too long chase, running from the insurmountable debts he owed the Katsuki family. He could have killed him a little quicker, a little cleaner, certainly a lot less messy, but every extra minute that passed only shortened Yuuri’s temper and the man’s chances for mercy.

So here he was, clothed in murder and his finest suit, not in any condition to meet Victor.

“Meet at the hotel.” Yuuri sent a rare text message as he raced to beat Victor to their safe haven for the night.

Victor always had this way of getting there first though, like he’d known all along that this is what would happen. So of course he was waiting for Yuuri, lounging on the couch that had a perfect view of the entrance way as Yuuri pushed the door open.

The smirk was instant, this predatory thing that raised the hairs on Yuuri’s skin. Victor got up to meet him there in the middle of their hotel suite, eyes a light with something primal and intoxicating.

“Yuuri.” Victor whispered his name like he always did, “You’re dirty.”

And then Victor kissed him like he always did, this time it was fierce and possessive and just as filthy as what Yuuri was.

Yuuri didn’t have time to speak, time to think, not even time to breathe.

Because Victor led him to the shower, stripped him bare as the room filled with steam and tension, he pushed Yuuri into the shower and sloughed away the day’s frustrations, with gentle hands he cleaned every inch of Yuuri’s colourful skin with devotion and worship.

It was as the last soap bubbles swirled down the drain that Victor pressed his chest to Yuuri’s back as they stood there under the streaming water. Yuuri could feel the pound of Victor’s heart, feel the heat of Victor’s breath on his throat as he loomed over Yuuri’s shoulder. He could feel Victor’s fingernails digging into his hips as he pulled Yuuri closer to grind his dick in between the wet cleft of Yuuri’s ass.

And Victor growled, hungry and impatient with no mercy of his own to give.

“It’s my turn to mess you up now, Yuuri.”

* * *

 

**Harsh whisper**

Victor and Yuuri scrambled down a dimly lit alley behind the back of the clubbing district in Moscow, all breathless laughter and adrenaline filled eyes as Victor pushed Yuuri against the wall in the darkness and kissed him like the madness that was currently running through both their veins.

“This is fun.” Victor’s whisper was harsh and ragged, wrecked and excited as he attacked Yuuri’s throat with only shadows to hide them.

“Mm,” Yuuri laughed, threading his fingers through Victor’s hair as he did so. “We should nearly get caught more often.”

* * *

 

 

**Help**

Victor really held nothing back last night, Yuuri groaned as he stretched and felt every part of himself ache in reply.

Getting out of bed was going to be difficult at best, stupid Victor. If he couldn’t move fast enough to save himself it was on Victor’s head.

Before he could sit up however, before he could wake and suit himself up to face the world; he heard Victor’s deep humming voice draw closer to the bedroom.

He looked positively smug to see the wreck that was Yuuri sprawled in the sheets, proud of the job he’d done because driving Yuuri to breaking point was a feat in itself.

“You look beautiful like this, Yuuri.” Victor teased with a chuckle as he leant against the doorframe.

Insufferable Victor, Yuuri mused.

“Shut up and help me.” Yuuri snapped with a pout.

And Victor laughed, this booming sound that warmed Yuuri’s soul as he bathed in the sound.

“As you wish.”

* * *

 

 

**Undone**

Victor stood, bracing himself against the shower wall with his palm against the cold tiles.

Hot water fell heavy on the back of his neck, a hiss of steam and the trickle of running water filled the room, as well the rough catch of his breath as he thought about someone’s tattooed back splayed out beneath him. He thought about Yuuri bracing himself on the headboard of the beds they slept in, on his knees and begging for it.

He thought about Yuuri calling his name the way he did, with the roll of the r at the end and the way he moaned it when Victor buried himself deep to make him feel good like only Victor could.

Hand clenched around his dick, jaw taut with frustration because his hand hadn’t been enough for a long time now, Victor was the one moaning Yuuri’s name in the shower alone as he came undone.

* * *

 

 

**Total control**

Victor listened to the soft sound of Yuuri breathing in bed next to him, turned to look at his tattooed skin that stood out bright amidst the white sheets of their hotel room bed.

He’d tried to hold on to himself, to his control. But the moment Yuuri had nearly made the ultimate sacrifice for him only a few months into this chaotic thing they had was the moment Victor lost it, the moment Victor willingly gave it up.

All it took for Victor to remember that was for Yuuri to wake up next to him, to mumble his name in his half awake state and inch closer to close the gap that’d since vanished.

He pulled Yuuri close and forgot about the world that waited for them both outside the hotel room door.

And he wondered if Yuuri knew he was the one who was in total control.

* * *

 

**Too Loud**

Victor was quite convinced that Yuuri was going to get them both killed, and there wasn’t a damn thing he was going to do to stop it.

Not when Yuuri was on his knees in the bathroom stall of the restaurant they’d met at that was crawling with Victor’s men. There’d been no other option this time, and that only seemed to excite Yuuri all the more.

So they’d met under the guise of business as usual, and Yuuri had foregone all conversation to invite him to the bathroom instead, to lure him with his pretty eyes and suggestive lips; and Victor would follow a sight like that to the ends of the earth and beyond.

Now Yuuri was kneeling in front of him, pink lips wrapped around his cock, taking Victor to the back his throat with a quiet moan like it was the only thing that could ever fill him up.

And it was Victor who couldn’t restrain himself, couldn’t stop the ‘oh yes,’ and the ‘please’ falling from his lips over and over again as Yuuri pinned his hips against the stall door with his mouth.

Then Yuuri stopped, he stopped and looked up at Victor with too teasing kisses to the head of his dick before he stood up with a smirk and leant against Victor’s chest.

Without a word; he curled a single finger around Victor’s tie and pulled, he pulled until the silk fell loose and the tie coiled into his open hand as it fell.

There was nothing Victor was going to do to stop this either, because Yuuri pulled Victor’s mouth open with a gentle touch and proceeded to stuff that silk in his mouth; inch by inch until it was all in.

“You’re too loud, Victor.” Yuuri whispered against his neck with nips of teeth.

Victor didn’t care, he just moaned around the fabric in his mouth as Yuuri sunk back to his knees and made Victor want to _scream_.

* * *

 

**Silent Fury**

Yuuri seethed in a silent fury as he stepped in and took in the view of the quiet bar in Barcelona, overcome with a feeling he didn’t think he was capable of, jealousy.

Because there was Victor Nikiforov, not alone at the bar like he usually was when they met in secret, but talking to a woman with his charming smile and all knowing eyes, seeing through her intentions even as she tried to close the gap between them that was already much too small for Yuuri’s possessive instincts to handle.

And he must have been mad, suicidal even, to do what he was about to do in the public eye, jealousy had this way of overriding logic and reason, he’d seen it all before, but Yuuri never thought he’d be the one to be affected by it like this.

So Yuuri found himself walking across the smoke shrouded room with his footsteps loud in their intention, gliding his way to Victor’s side as Victor sat on his barstool, and before Victor could act, before the women with her red stained lips and hungry eyes could say anything; Yuuri was snaking his arms around Victor’s waist, leaning in close to caress Victor’s neck with his lips as he looked at the woman from the corner of his eye.

“Sorry, this one is mine.” Yuuri drawled with heat, with power and greed and overwhelming dominance.

He heard Victor’s breath catch in his throat, heard the quiet groan well up from his chest as he shivered in Yuuri’s arms, the woman all but forgotten.

“Back to the hotel, now.”

* * *

 

 

**Don’t leave.**

“Don’t leave.” Victor whispered as he stood with Yuuri at yet another hotel room door where they’d spent the night locked up in all their secrets.

“I have to.” and Yuuri contradicted himself anyway as he let Victor wrap his arms around him there in the foyer, as he leant into Victor’s suited chest to breathe in the scent of his cologne, to feel whole for a little longer before he tore himself up all over again.

“Don’t leave.” Victor urged again as he squeezed that lethal body for good measure, because maybe if he held on tight, he wouldn’t have to let go.

“Give me any reason to stay, and I will.” and Yuuri gave in, all too willingly as he sighed against Victor’s chest and returned the hug.

“It’s my birthday.” Victor stated.

“No it isn’t.” Yuuri leant back to look at him with a quirked brow.

“You said give you any reason, and we missed it last year, so today it’s my birthday.” Victor hummed as he rubbed circles into the small of Yuuri’s back, relishing the way Yuuri relaxed further in his arms. “So don’t leave, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled up at him then, wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and drew Victor closer still.

“Happy birthday then, Victor.”

* * *

 

**Weightless**

Sometimes, Victor found it hard to wake up.

That weightless space in time in between the oblivion of sleep and the mantle on his shoulders that came with waking, he liked to linger there some mornings and dream.

It was those mornings that he was tired, tired of being Victor Nikiforov, tired of the empty bed next to him, tired of waiting for the night that there would be someone next to him to reach out to in the morning.

Expectations are heavy things, heavier still when they’re your own, and those moments of weightlessness called to him, and it was those sometimes that Victor found it hard to resist.

But then he’d hear his phone buzz on the nightstand, loud in the silence as it vibrated across the wooden surface in his direction like the person on the other end was trying to find him.

And the call of that abrupt vibration was always stronger than the pull of any dreams, because Victor would roll over with bleary eyes and check his phone, squinting against its intrusive light.

“Just touched down in St Petersburg, see you tonight?”

Then it was Victor flinging himself out of bed, putting on his best suit and booking the best room for the night.

Because tonight Yuuri would call him Victor, just Victor, he’d fill the space in the empty bed, take up too much room and all the sheets, and Yuuri would sleep in, oblivious to his own pull. It was those mornings that Victor couldn’t wait to wake up, to reach out to Yuuri as he slept and remind himself that expectations meant nothing compared to this.

Expectations are heavy things, Victor Nikiforov knows this, and it’s that text message that wakes him up to let him know he’s strong enough to bear them all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr here [here](http://captain-erwinmerica.tumblr.com)  
> or on twitter @ashidawrites


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